Carry Me to Safety (I Can't Go Alone)
by Lake of Rage
Summary: BW/BW2. Oneshot. N, Hilda, and Hilbert are kidnapped by one of the last Team Plasma stragglers. Of course, the Plasma Grunt who's in charge of the "prisoners" really doesn't like N. Hilda and Hilbert aren't about to sit back and watch N get hurt, though.


_Angst, anyone? Get it while it's ho-ot~!_

 _Anyway, this one I actually wrote a year-ish ago on my iPod touch, and it was a very different narrative. In fact, this story was only the very beginning: the main event of that was cut off because, if I'd included even the cliffnotes version without editing it or putting on actual meat to those story bones, this oneshot would've reached well over 10K words, and I think 5.7K is plenty._

 _Warnings, warnings... there's kidnap and torture and flashbacks of child abuse. ...Yep. This one is pretty dark. Be prepared, FanFiction. Be prepared._

 _Also, I don't own Pokémon. Sadly._

* * *

 **Carry Me to Safety (I Can't Go Alone)**

He was such an idiot. _Such_ an idiot. Sure, he usually had the excuse of never having so much as glimpsed the inside of a school building, but that petty explanation was hardly sufficient for _this_ huge of a screw-up; _this_ much of a no-brainer. No matter how much he tried to justify it in his mind, he couldn't come up with anything that really absolved him. Probably because there would be no absolution; not for something this horrible.

Arceus, how had he let this _happen?_

As usual, N could do nothing but berate himself for the outstanding failure he'd managed to add to his record. And, yes, there was a list; certainly not comprehensive, because it would take fifty Metagross to remember every mistake he'd ever made in his life, but all the big ones were on that list. Failure to liberate Pokémon? Check. Failure to stop Ghestis from freezing half of Unova? Check.

Failure to save himself and his best friends from being kidnapped?

 _Check_.

And, _Arceus,_ this was a _bad_ one. How could he have been so monumentally stupid? Had all common sense and rational thought really abandoned him long back down the road? 'Cause that sure seemed to be the only explanation.

Like all catastrophes, it had come completely out of left field (' _Or maybe you're just blind to have not seen it coming,'_ his mind whispered, and he didn't have the strength of will to ignore it). Hours had drifted lazily by as he bonded with a Vulpix he'd found abandoned in a back alley, affectionately nicknamed "Pixel". By the time the sun was drooping in exhaustion, sagging down towards the horizon, they were both hungry and significantly closer, N's gentle soothing having penetrated Pixel's distrust with relative ease.

As he pulled out a pot to make them both some soup or mac 'n' cheese, a hasty knock at his apartment door caught his attention.

As a reclusive person who was still wary of most humans, having seen what they could do to their "partners", N had been reluctant to answer it. Doing so proved worthwhile, though, and the snappy complaint died on his tongue, morphing into a huge grin.

It was the same brown-haired duo who had saved him from himself multiple times now.

For siblings, they would've had to work hard to be any more different, and he didn't doubt that they worked towards that already. One was a feisty and muscular girl of maybe 16 years, her clothes stylish but tomboyish and her hair contained by a high ponytail and battered ballcap. Her brother was a more averagely-built and laid-back boy who was closer in age to 15, his hair just a little too long to be tidy and his face capable of fatal puppy-dog eyes. Even their partner Pokémon conflicted: the girl had a Serperior curled around her neck whereas the boy was dutifully trailed by a Samurott with his head held high.

And, when they invited him to go out for some late dinner, maybe walk around Castelia and see the sights together... well, who was he to refuse? He enjoyed their company, and he certainly owed them that much. Besides, he was definitely going to pay for their meals as well as his, even with his limited budget, which might make him feel a little better about looking at himself in the mirror (because he owed them this much and more; so much that he could never possibly repay it all).

He had never even considered that he might be putting them in danger.

 _"I don't know what_ you're _laughing about, Hilda," Hilbert snapped indignantly, crossing his arms and glaring at his older sister, who was currently just short of hysterics. "It's not like_ you _didn't have problems with the Elite 4!"_

 _Hilda's grin only grew wider, if that was even possible, and N got the distinct impression that she was trying to mimic a Sharpedo with that facial expression, equal parts mischievous and smug. She was succeeding. "I had_ slight _difficulties with Chandelure," she admitted through a distinctly unladylike snort, "but that was only because Papa was worn out after Grimsley and the rest of Shauntal's Pokémon!" N remembered Papa, the overprotective Jellicent whose name was fitting as he'd taken on a fatherly role to Hilda and her team. "And you're equating that to your situation?!_ _ **Pah!**_ _"_

" _Hey, this coming from the girl who told me I didn't need any bug-types in the first place!" Hilbert shot back, obviously defensive about this topic. "What was I supposed to do after Elliot fainted?!" Oh. That explained it. N knew from experience that Hilbert was almost ludicrously protective of Elliot, the Krookodile he'd been given by his father as a child. No wonder this was such a hot-button issue for him._

" _Actually, I told you that_ I _didn't need any bug-types. You just assumed that I meant_ you _didn't either!" Hilda countered immediately, not losing her smirk. "Besides, since when have Leif and I ever been reliable sources of information?" Leif, her Serperior, hissed in a vaguely chuckle-like fashion, flicking his tail in affirmation and coiling around his Master's neck. "Also, there's a difference between almost losing to Shauntal and almost losing to_ Caitlin, _bro."_

" _Um, should we break them up?" Pixel mewed, her six tails swaying in worry as the siblings bickered nonstop like an old married couple. N just grinned and stroked her head placatingly, making her shudder once before collapsing snout-first into his shoulder, halfway asleep. A short laugh left his mouth in the light of the situation, and he turned back to Hilda and Hilbert, both having fallen behind, with a gleam of amusement in his eyes. He'd long since stopped nursing the styrofoam cup of hot chocolate in his hands, but he took another sip now and was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn't cold yet. They'd been walking for a while, though._

"— _and then you_ _didn't even_ beat _Alder in the end!" Hilbert concluded what seemed to have been a spiel of epic proportions that N was both disappointed and overjoyed he'd missed. Unfortunately, the effect of the brunette's glare was ruined when he took another bite of his Castelia Cone, smearing vanilla ice cream on his lower lip, and chased it down with an angry gulp of hot cocoa, making it seem like more of a pout._

 _Never one to let an argument get to her head, Hilda offered a good-natured laugh before opened her mouth, no doubt ready to launch some snarky response that would rekindle the entire thing, just with another topic._

 _And then a jetstream of water interrupted the conversation._

 _Pixel immediately clambered back with a yelp of "M-Master!", trying to avoid being hit by the spray of water. Equally fast, N tugged her into his arms, shielding her to the best of his ability even though that meant he got drenched. Reacting far swifter than either of them could hope to was Leif, who slithered off Hilda's shoulders before anyone else could even comprehend the situation and plunged into the water with a loud hiss. Seconds later, glimpses of the clash sprayed mist and small droplets everywhere as he and a Golduck clashed for dominance inside the swelling whirlpool._

 _It didn't take long for Leif to win with a well-aimed flurry of leaves—Leaf Storm? Razor Leaf?—and hurry back to Hilda's side, but he still barely made it before a Glaceon darted across the road, which seemed almost eerily empty all of a sudden. Paws pittering against the pavement, the Glaceon looked up with a snarl, revealing a scarred face, just as she leaped at Leif, catching him by surprise and going straight for the kill. Her teeth sunk into his neck, very close to the junction of his jaw, and his agonized hiss let N know that it was definitely Ice Fang._

 _Immediately, she had Pixel on her case, tails wrapping around her lithe body and hurling her away. She rolled to a stop on her side and hastily sprung to her feet, but not before Pixel sent a furious and therefore much larger than usual stream of flame her way. A sharp cry, then silence, and N found himself stepping forward instinctively to go check on the poor creature; treat her burns before they scarred. Hilda was already doing the same with Leif, muttering curse words under her breath, and Hilbert, for his part, looked flabbergasted and left-behind, like he was struggling to process what on earth had just happened._

 _A chuckle broke the palpable silence as a figure emerged from the shifting shadows of the alleyway, and N froze in place before he could reach the Glaceon._

 _Because gone were the silly hoods and flowing, knightly cloaks with blatant crests emblazoned across the front and back, but that was definitely a Team Plasma symbol stitched into his shirt._

 _The man was a redhead, and, for a moment, N thought he must've been a member of the Shadow Triad, because he was dressed mostly in black with even a flimsy gray face mask covering the lower part of his face. But the Shadows were white-haired and rarely showed emotion. And, even if they did, he doubted it would be such malice, because they truly were good people. They just owed a debt to the wrong man._

 _Either way, this didn't make sense. He'd seen Ghetsis and his precious Legendary get their words shoved down their throats by that hyperactive Rosa girl and her somewhat calmer big brother, Nate. Team Plasma, which had already been almost entirely disbanded, was once again torn apart, and he'd thought they were down for the count this time. Apparently not._

 _"Hello, there,_ **_Lord N."_**

 _His name was ground out snidely and spat like poison, the Plasma Grunt (because what else could he be?) obviously trying to mock him by using the title. Starting, N snapped to attention, watching the man raptly and wishing for once that he had never left Team Plasma so he could order an explanation. He wasn't used to hearing such obvious hatred from Plasma Grunts; they were usually either respectful or pitying, depending on the situation._

 _"Excuse me," Hilda took over quickly, clearly less than happy with the new development, "but just who the hell **are** you?"_

 _The question didn't seem to phase him: if anything, he seemed thrilled to share. "Oh, of course!" he exclaimed in mock horror. "How impolite of me! I'm here on the behalf of the new and improved Team Plasma." He spoke that name, at least, with plenty of reverence. "And you, little girlie, have nothing to do with this! Lucky you!" He smirked. "So why don't you just run off with your brother and let the adults talk?"_

 _Hilbert and N winced in unison, but the Plasma Grunt remained oblivious right up until Hilda stepped forward defiantly, a new rage burning behind her eyes. **"What** did you just call me?" she demanded. Then, without waiting for an answer: "We're staying right here, thanks. You aren't talking to our friend alone 'cause we already know for sure you're a nut." On a roll now, Hilda crossed her arms and shifted her weight menacingly, her facial expression enough to send a warning. __"And, by the way... new and improved? Team Plasma was disbanded. All the members are either reformed or in jail by now. Doesn't sound 'improved' to me."_

 _As she spoke, she strode up to stand half in front of N protectively, and, although it should've been embarrassing to have a slightly younger girl protect him, N couldn't feel anything but touched that they'd become so close. That Plasma Grunt, he decided with a hidden smile, didn't know what he was getting into._

 _The grunt seemed only relatively amused by her observations, however. "It was a test of competence," he explained gleefully. "All those who were unfaithful to the cause and those who couldn't evade the police were weeded out, leaving behind the core members of Team Plasma." He cockily stepped towards Hilda, not taking notice of her iron muscles or adept fighting stance._

 _"We are the admins in a sea of grunts. And, you know what?"_ _He leaned closer with a smug grin; the kind of grin you wear when you know you've already won, but the opponent just hasn't noticed yet._

 _"We want to show_ Lord N _that he should never have abandoned the cause."_

 _Before either Trainer could respond, a shocked cry from behind diverted their attention. Both whirled around in surprise, ready to jump to their partners' aide and start the battle and knowing instinctively that Hilbert and his own partners would gladly join them. Hilda's mouth was already half-open, ready to spout orders at Leif, who'd already been fed a MooMoo Milk or two._

 _They both froze._

 _A Shadow had materialized out of nowhere as always, but his Pokemon weren't out; they were still resting comfortably on his belt. Instead, he had wrapped one arm around Hilbert's chest in a restraining hold, pulling him back and gripping him tight. His free hand held a knife, the blade of which was held dangerously close to the youngest boy's exposed neck._

 _Hilda immediately howled in rage, the color draining from her face altogether and her features twisting and scrunching so much that she resembled a Gyarados more than she did a human; her roar was about as intimidating. N himself, despite being a normally collected person, growled deep in his throat, eyebrows furrowing into a deadly glare. It was made somewhat less intimidating by his thin frame that lacked proper muscle. Luckily, Hilda picked up his slack and cracked her knuckles loudly, lowering herself into a stance that promised blood, and a lot of it._

 _The Shadow met N's eyes, and the regret there was almost enough to make hope swell in his chest (the Shadow Triad really were good people), but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared, swallowed down along with any other indecision. "Surrender your Pokémon and put your hands behind your backs or the kid dies," he snapped, drawing the knife even closer as a warning. Hilbert made some indescribable noise deep within his chest, his head pulling back instinctively but only exposing his neck even further. Closing his eyes, he swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing, and the blade just barely broke his skin._

"N?"

N winced at the voice but kept his eyes closed, unwilling to glance over at the younger boy. The memory was still pounding through his head like a herd of Donphan, and he was still beating himself up about his idiocy. Figuratively, of course. It wasn't like he could really beat himself or anyone else up at the moment. Shifting subconsciously against the frigid cement pressed to his side, he flexed his wrists experimentally for what had to be the millionth time. Just like the last however-many times, the ropes were taut and unforgiving; there was no give or slack for him to exploit. Twisting his ankles proved similarly pointless, as those knots were done up even tighter, as if the Grunt was trying his best to cut off his circulation.

"N."

He clenched his teeth slightly, happy that he was turned away from curious eyes. He would absolutely _not_ give the Plasma Grunt(s?) the satisfaction of knowing that he was scared, and that meant concealing it from Hilda and Hilbert, too. He just had to endure it until someone came looking for them—Bianca, Cheren, Professor Juniper, _anyone_. Then he could worry about his fears without selfishly getting Hilbert and Hilda involved. He'd dragged them into enough in the past hour.

"N, are you okay?" Not Hilbert's voice anymore, something stronger than that; Hilda's firm tone that didn't leave any room for avoidance. He flinched at the mostly-concealed anger in her voice, wonderingly dully if it was directed towards him. Who was he kidding? Of course it was. Who else would she be angry at? It was his fault that they were in this mess, after all. And, yeah, she might be angry at Team Plasma, too, but he was the former king of Team Plasma, so he supposed that also included him, giving her two reasons to despise him right now.

 _'Don't be a freakin' idiot, N. She doesn't hate you. She's your friend.'_

He swallowed thickly, the action stinging in his throat as if he'd been holding his breath for a few years. "I'm alright," he replied in a voice that crackled like burning paper, still keeping his head turned away from the other two occupants of the room. Some deep part of his mind, the part that still belonged to Ghetsis, rumbled doubts into his thoughts. Was Hilda happy to know he was okay? Or had she glared at him behind his back and shared a look of disgust with her little brother? As much as he wanted to believe the former, that sickly little child that still lived inside him refused to trust that even Hilda and Hilbert could be kind enough to forgive his grievous error. _'Would they really be happy that the cause of their problems was unharmed? Of course not. You're just lucky that they're too kind to punish you.'_

 _'You really are a moron. Can't you tell that they don't hate you for this? They don't think it's your fault.'_

The door clicked open and all three fell into a tense silence, listening to the echoing clicks of boots against the ground. Sure enough, strutting in like king of the world was the same Grunt, his Glaceon on his shoulder, and N wondered just how small this new Team Plasma. Gaze locked onto the Grunt's shoes as they drew closer, N obstinately refused to look up. If he did, the somewhat older man would probably be able to sense his obvious terror a mile away. He really was a wimp.

The twenty-something redhead strode past a snarling Hilda and glaring Hilbert, heading for the figure laying purposelessly behind them.

Before N could compose himself enough to meet the man's eyes, a hand fisted in his hair, dragging him into a sitting position.

 _He struggled desperately against the ropes around his wrists as the thick fingers tangled into his locks, heaving his tiny six-year-old body into the air. "Please!_ Please!" _His emaciated legs kicked at nothing until they were roughly bound together and he was dropped back onto the rumpled mattress. He yelped like a wounded Lillipup as hands flew to his shirt, stripping him down and exposing his pure white skin. "No! Please, don't!" he screamed, squirming helplessly in his restraints but knowing deep down that he wouldn't be able to get free._

N found himself leaning into the wall he had been thrown up against, eyes closed as he struggled to keep his breathing even. He was on the verge of hyperventilation, and he would _not_ let the Plasma grunt know. He couldn't know that his torture, simple as it was, was _working;_ that his prisoner couldn't even think straight. He would surely derive pleasure from it, and N denied him such pleasures. _'Arceus, N, why are you such a wimp, barely keeping calm?'_

As he composed himself, the Plasma grunt crouched down in front of him, knocking the exhausted and wounded Glaceon harshly off of his shoulder. She yelped as she tumbled down to N's feet, where she lay on her side, breathing shallowly but lacking the strength to stand.

N swiftly leaned over her, cooing and whispering words of comfort automatically. Instantly the grunt grabbed Glaceon by the tail and tugged her away, earning a snarl from both the Pokémon and the human. "I always remember people saying you were good with Pokémon, _Lord N,"_ the grunt snapped bitterly, glaring at the teenager and clenching his fists. N kept his expression composed, meeting the older man's gaze steadily with fearless eyes.

 _'See, you aren't a wimp. You're being too hard on yourself.'_ As if the two sides of his brain were constantly at war with one another.

This only served to irritate the grunt further. He leaned forward, putting his irate face so close to N's that their noses almost touched. "Don't look at me like I'm _stupid!"_ he snarled, hands shooting forward and clutching N's shirt. Standing, he pulled his former king off of the wall and lifted the teen up with him so that the two were almost eye-to-eye, N's legs folded uselessly under him, eradicating the height he had on the man.

 _"Do you think I'm **stupid?"** The hiss ripped through his ear. No, oh, Arceus no, he hadn't thought that, he really hadn't— "You do, don't you?" The nearly naked child was grabbed by the neck and thrown up against the headboard, where he struggled in vain to get air into his lungs..._

"I'm sorry that you think I made the wrong choice when I left Team Plasma," N said calmly, his face still completely blank as he focused on the grunt's collar rather than his face, "but I do not regret my decision." _'Just keep him talking; occupy him long enough for someone to come save you.'_ And, in turn, the nasty part of his brain whispered in reply, _'Even though it's pathetic that you need saving in this situation; why can't you get out of it on your own?'_

 _'Because you're **weak,** that's why.'_

The grunt's hand gripped N's face cruelly, reminding the green-haired boy of just how much it'd hurt when he'd been shoved against the wall of the nearest apartment complex, the bricks' uneven surfaces grating against his skin as his wrists were twisted behind his back and firmly tied there. Still, he would've rather had that hand on the back of his skull again, pushing his face against the wall, because now the grunt was tilting his chin up harshly, forcing their eyes to meet, and _crap crap crap, I'm not a good actor according to Ghetsis, he'll know that I'm scared, he'll know_ —

But, apparently, this man was _very_ bad at reading people, because N's blank facade fooled him and he scowled, obviously not finding any of the fear he'd expected there. Glowering, he released N's chin and instead pulled away the ropes on the boy's wrists before manipulating them above his head. N knew what was coming, but he still winced when the rope wound around them once again, even tighter this time, and anchored his hands firmly above him.

 _"You've been a very, **very** bad boy, N." The voice was like moldy silk in his ears as his hands were chained above him and he squirmed and writhed to no effect, sobbing hopelessly as the tears streamed down his face. "Now, how many lashings do you think will do the trick...?"_

Resisting the very strong urge to squeeze his eyes shut, which would be a dead giveaway, N instead allowed his eyes to flicker over to Hilda and Hilbert. Even though he'd known in the back of his mind that it would have to be the case, he winced when he noticed that they, too, were trussed up both hand and foot. Hilbert was leaning against the far wall, unable to prop himself up any further, whereas Hilda had managed to struggle to her knees. Both sets of eyes were locked onto him in horror, their expressions some mix between panicked and enraged. _'Damn it, moron, you see? They. Don't. Hate. You.'_

 _'Yes they do. You're just too blind to see it.'_

Offering a fleeting but hopefully successful reassuring glance, he returned his gaze to the problem at hand just in time for the man to flick out a switchblade, flipping it open immediately with a sadistic smirk slowly growing on his face.

"You know," he whispered conspiratorially, and N barely heard him over the sudden desperate shouts of protest from the other teens, "I think I'm gonna enjoy this."

With one swift tug, N's shirts were bunched up just under his armpits, exposing a swathe of his pale torso underneath. If this particular grunt was surprised to see the many fading scars that covered it, he certainly didn't show it. He only dragged a finger across the edge of the blade slowly, lovingly, before holding it close to N's chest and ghosting it slowly up and down, not pressing down enough to break the skin but enough to leave a thin white line. N stared at the blade, mesmerized, and waited with almost awe for it to dip deeper.

 _"Get the hell away from him, you bastard!"_ Hilda nearly screamed, and N wasn't transfixed enough to miss the heavy _thud_ that followed. His eyes darted over and he flinched, jostling the knife further in and making a drop of blood bead up. Having lurched forward as if to help him, Hilda had naturally fallen flat on her face. Her nose was now dripping blood and she was struggling to return to an upright position, glare never leaving the grunt's knife.

So distracted was he by Hilda's plight, he was almost shocked when the knife finally did sink into his chest, carving a long line right above his ribcage.

 _"You really are selfish," the voice whispered into his ear as he writhed and sobbed and screamed, the knife carving into his skin although not going deep enough to cause any worry about blood loss. "You would deny a punishment that you deserve just because you don't want to face the consequences of your actions?"_

A choked gasp masking a grunt of pain left his mouth as he slammed himself against the wall as if to escape the blade. Of course, this only cornered him, and, when the grunt replaced the knife, he could no longer so much as breathe deeply without pushing the tip of it into his skin once again. The yelling resumed from Hilda and Hilbert, and N had to fight the instinct to mutter, "It's okay, guys... I deserve it; it's okay." They knew that. They weren't _dumb;_ they _had_ to know that. Maybe they were just being nice and sympathizing with him anyway; sharing his torment.

When was he going to stop causing everyone around him pain?

 _'You aren't causing_ —

 _'Ah, who am I kidding?_

 _'You're definitely causing them a lot of pain, you selfish bastard.'_

Once again, the knife ventured below the skin—

 _"No, Daddy!" he cried, fighting the restraints as he screamed and screamed and screamed. "No, I wasn't bad! I promise, Daddy! I was good!" He was just sobbing hysterically at this point, and that small voice in his head appeared for the first time, whispering,_ 'Hate to break it to you, kid, but you obviously weren't good.'

—eliciting more moans of dissent from Hilda and Hilbert, although they were less this time. They were seeing the light, then. They were seeing that, this?—his body thrashing against the ropes as the knife dragged onward?—this was what he deserved. He liked to imagine he heard cut-off sobs from their mouths, although it was just wishful thinking (and how selfish was it to wish with all his heart that they were suffering just so he could pretend he didn't deserve this?).

Then the knife raised up, hovered in the air for a few tension-filled moments, and came back down with a vengeance, slowly tearing a long, _agonizing_ gash from N's collarbone down.

 _"Say it," the voice prompted gently as the belt came down again, anything but gentle, and he thrashed some more. "Say it. Out loud." He... He was being selfish... He deserved this..._

It started at the collar and scraped against what could've been bone, drawing a shout from his mouth without his assent. Then it slowly, ever so _pain_ stakingly slowly, dragged down his chest. He sucked in a breath that caught in his throat, only for it to stampede out of his mouth in a scream as he began to writhe once again, the knife only jolting in the wound and hurting worse.

 _Shaking and crying, he thought to himself, '_ I-I'm a bad boy; I never do anything right; it's all my fault...' _He didn't want to believe it, but it was true, it was so true and he was **pathetic...**_ '...and now I'm just selfishly trying to evade punishment...' _When had he gotten to be such a bad boy?_ 'I... I'm...!'

"P-please..." he moaned quietly, almost silently. His skin crawled, his stomach contracting reflexively, as the knife dipped even lower, pulling through the delicate, bruised skin of his abdomen and straying ever closer to the waistline of his pants. But all N could think was _oh Arceus, oh Arceus, **oh God, pain pain pain,** how selfish am I?, **pain pain pain**_ —"P-please! _Please!"_ N's eyes squeezed shut and tears squeezed out, his head jerking up so that the top of his skull scraped the wall as his neck pulled taut in pain.

 _"Say it. Out loud."_

 _ **"I'm sorry!"**_

That was when a ground-shaking, eardrum-shattering screech of pure _rage_ met his ears, followed closely by a tense _snap._

Then the knife was gone, tearing out of his flesh even more violently than it'd came in, and he couldn't help but shout again in pain, his voice raspy and dry from overuse of just the past however-many seconds. _'Wimp, pathetic, weak.'_

He could hear a tussle, although he had no idea what was going on, because who would be trying to stop this? No one sympathized with him, and for good reason: he was a disgusting person, he was a _bad boy,_ and he deserved everything he got.

Then Hilda's hands were cupping his cheeks and she was crying, snapped ropes hanging uselessly from her wrists. It took him longer than it should've to realize that she was crying for him; was crying his name, in fact: choking out sobs of "N, shh, N, it's okay, you're safe now, shhh..."

 _N watched, dumbfounded, as the two brunettes stroked their Pokémon lovingly, allowing the small beasts to nuzzle into them. "You did an amazing job," the boy was assuring his weary but victorious team. The girl's celebrations were more lively, and she dragged her Stoutland, the actual hero of the battle, into an asphyxiating hug. "You kicked some serious ass, Benji!" she cheered, and Benji wriggled higher up in her arms before beginning to lick her face happily with a yip. Only N could discern the 'Mon's words, of course, and he was stunned to hear an enthusiastic, "Of course, Master; I wouldn't let you down!"_

 _These two had just beaten his Father; had just left the man in their dust, for Arceus's sake! And he'd expected them to be cruel, vicious slave drivers to their Pokémon, just like all the other humans he'd heard about from both Father and his own partners. But here they were, showing nothing but kindness and mercy._

The ropes around his wrists fell away and he tumbled to the floor, collapsing in on himself without the strength necessary to use his own body effectively. Before he could collide face-first, however, Hilda's capable arms caught him, hooking under his armpits and heaving him back up slightly. Dazed, he nonetheless fought to help her, but his own limbs were uncooperative and unruly. In the end, she did all the work, propping him up against the wall and untying the bindings that held his feet together.

Still out of it, he barely noticed when she darted away for a few minutes, instead focusing on the fact that _Arceus, it freaking hurts_ and his confusion. What, exactly, had happened? Everything had swept by so fast, and now the previous eternity of that one long slash down his chest seemed to have been condensed into a three-second memory.

Then both Hilda and Hilbert were scrambling back into view, working together to support his limp, lifeless body as they lifted him to his feet and helped him lean against the nearest wall. With only a muffled groan of protest, N grit his teeth against the pain and powered through it. After all, if his years with Ghetsis had taught him anything, it was that this was only the beginning.

But...

He felt so safe...

 _"You know, N..." came the quiet voice, and he looked up inquisitively, spotting the same brunette boy who'd just demolished his dreams._

 _"...you're not so bad," Hilbert finished, smiling softly and extending a hand to help the just older and much taller boy up from where he'd fallen to the ground upon defeat. "I think we could do a lot more good for the world as friends than as enemies, so..."_

 _Closing his eyes and tilting his head to the side, Hilbert morphed his smile into a flat-up grin._

 _"Truce?"_

"Truce," N whispered aloud, sagging in relief because _Friends, not enemies; won't hurt._

And, when he passed out, his best friends were there to catch him.


End file.
